Until I Find Peace
by da queen dragomir
Summary: It's funny, the way we live life. We think we know what we want, but we really don't. I thought I had everything, i thought i was happy. But here i am. I should be dead for good, but i still need to find that stupid thing holding me back—the one thing i didn't find in my first life. Once I do, i can find peace and move on, but i hardly remember my name. T for swearing. FAX story.


Have you ever wondered what you would do if you walked into your room to find a complete stranger just chilling at your desk? Not robbing anything, not stealing...not even the least bit uncomfortable. Just sitting there, listening to music like it's the most ordinary thing in the entire world? Yeah, me neither. So i wasn't exactly prepared when it happened.

He didn't even notice me standing, frozen, in my doorway—my mouth hung open and everything. Now first of all, let me tell you that it takes a lot to surprise Maximum Ride. A _lot_. But if someone where to look up bewilderment, or shocked, or any of their synonyms, my face in that instant would be printed right on the page.

It took me a few moments to recover my composure and he still hadn't even glanced at me. So, in the true Maximum Ride fashion, I crossed my arms and cleared my throat, raising a single eyebrow. I waited patiently for him to notice me so that I could scream at him and kick his butt into next week for breaking into my house and hanging out in _my_ room. Maybe he was homeless or something; a squatter. Except my room is most definitely inhabited. By me.

"Yo!" I all but shouted, clapping my hands together in attempt to gain his attention. He continued nodding his head to the music that was blaring through his headphones. It had better be some _good_ music. I grumbled something under my breath that shouldn't ever be heard by the general public before i stalked over.

"Heelllooo!" I said loudly, waving my hands in front of his face. He blinked and looked up, a frown on his face. Dayum. I wasn't expecting him to be that attractive.

His dark, obsidian colored eyes met mine. They looked a little dazed as he removed his headphones, bringing them down around his neck and messing up his dark hair in the process. Now wasn't really the time, but once again: dayum.

He blinked up at me. I stared right back.

"Who are you?" He asked, rather calmly.

I frowned at him. He waited patiently for my response. I didn't say anything.

"Do I know you?" I gave no response. I mean, it's not like _he_ was the one who should be asking questions! He was in my house. _He_ needed to explain himself, not the other way around.

"Can you speak?" He asked. Is he joking? I looked at him like he'd grown to heads, so he frowned, "Um... Let's see. ¿Yo soy hablo Ingles?"

I lost it.

"Of course I speak English, you idiot!" I exclaimed through a giant facepalm, "And you need to take a better Spanish class, Mr. Speak English."

The side of his mouth twitched in an obvious attempt to hide his smile.

"I don't take Spanish," he said. _Yeah, well it showed_.

"Obviously," i muttered, crossing my arms.

That silence came back. He didn't seem particularly concerned about keeping conversation going. He turned back to a computer—which, oddly, didn't look like my computer—and went back to what he was doing before I "rudely" interrupted him.

I stood there glaring, and he probably figured i would eventually give up and leave. _Yeah, good luck with that, buddy. Max is a stubborn girl. I could stand here all night if i wanted to._

Apparently, so could he. He didn't even acknowledge me, just simply began typing away at his computer. It went on like that until my should began to grow stiff, and my neck started to cramp. I uncomfortably shifted weight on my legs, from one to the other, but i refused to give in. At some point, he finished whatever he was doing and closed out. With a sigh, he turned to me as if it was the greatest injustice ever done to him.

"What's your name again?"

"I never said," I answered, crossing my arms,"What's _your_ name?"

"Nick," he replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"Liar," I said, pointing an accusing finger, "How many people call you that?"

He thought for a moment, "Right now I think the current number is around half a million."

_What on Earth this guy talking about?_ I was suddenly worried that that there was a complete psycho in my room. Maybe even a sociopath. He kind of seemed like one. Looking at him right now, I couldn't really see much emotion on his face—except his eyes. His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was definitely something there. God, i needed to get his guy out of here, especially before my parents come in and completely flip.

He had gone silent again, just watching me. Intently. I ignored it and pierced him with one of my best glares, "So, Mr. Speak English—"

"I just said my name was Nick."

_Did he seriously just interrupt me?_ "That's not what you said earlier," I countered irritably.

He sighed in exasperation, running his fingers through his hair. I watched as he leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling as if to ask, "Why me?"

I was about to say so something, but his voice cut me off (seriously, what was this guy's problem with interrupting me!). Without moving, without even glancing at me, he asked, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

What was I—okay, it was official. This guy was just messing with me! The stupid questions, the typing, not knowing Spanish... It was a joke.

"That's it," I fumed, pointing a single finger at the door, "Get out. Now," I did my best to sound as scary as possible, and I'm pretty sure it worked.

He looked surprised, at least. He stared at me for a long moment, looking a little bit confused. Then that glint of confusion in his eyes changed, turninginto something lighter—amusement. He thought this was funny! He even smirked! This kid had nerve. I narrowed my eyes, ready to deliver the ass whooping of the century.

"I mean it," I practically growled, shaking with anger. If he was scared, though, he didn't show it.

"Faaanngg!" A shrill, unfamiliar voice called from downstairs. I frowned. Who the hell was Fang?

The guy stood up, "I'll be right back," he said, "Don't touch anything," and then he sat up from his chair and walked right past me. I felt my eye twitch. There was more than one? Did my parents know? Maybe my parents invited them over without telling me.

With a sigh, i turned to face the rest or the room.

And nearly fell over.

All of my stuff was gone. All of it. The room was pretty much empty (and it was my room—I could see the spot on the wall where I had carved my name into the wall with my mom's key. I had only been about eight and man had I gotten in trouble afterwards). There was only a bed, with a black and gray checkered comforter, and a beside table with a clock resting on it. Pressed against the wall where a couple stacks of boxes. As for the desk, well it turned out that wasn't my desk, either (they looked similar though).

Okay. Now I'm not sure how you guys would respond to such a situation, but i was completely dumbfounded.

The only thing i could think was..._where the fuck was my stuff?_

Fang Pov

Fang walked downstairs, his mind on the girl and their strange encounter. That was...weird. Definitely weird. But she was kind of funny. And annoying. And stubborn. And he hadn't even known her for more than—what?—fifteen minutes? He didn't even know her name.

"Yo," he greeted, walking into the kitchen.

His mom turned to him with a couple glasses in her hands, "Have you started unpacking your room?"

Fang was quiet.

"I figured as much," his mother said, not unkindly, "I'll come help you in a minute if you need."

Fang thought of the strange girl and frowned, "No, that's okay. I can do it," he turned to leave but stopped, "Who's the girl?" He asked.

"What girl?"

That made Fang turn back around to face her, "You didn't let anyone in?" He asked incredulously.

"No. Why?"

Fang hesitated. Then shook his head, "Nothing," he mumbled, "Just thought i heard something," the he walked upstairs, back into his new room. He was expecting to see a certain dirty blonde with cold brown eyes and a short temper. He just saw an empty room. He frowned and rubbed a hand down his face.

"Maybe I'm just tired," he said to himself, going back to his desk. He took another weary glance around the room, half expecting her to just pop out. There was no way he could have imagined that whole thing...Right?


End file.
